


Why Not Both?

by son_of_a_bitch_spn_family



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Castiel and Dean and Sam are Jacks Three Dads, Castiel is sex positive, Castiel knows what he wants and he takes it, Dean takes orders well, Fluff and Smut with a smidge of Angst, Jack is a good bean, M/M, Sam and Dean are not together, Somewhere before Cas makes his deal, This is actually very soft, Wincestiel without the Wincest, sam does not, when faced with two choices, why not both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 19:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family/pseuds/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family
Summary: Without a question, above anything else, there is nothing Castiel would not do for his family. He loves them, loves them more than he'd loved God, and that is entirely the reason heaven can no longer be his home. For every single one, he'd give his life; for every single one, he has.Things have gotten complicated; Castiel is just now seeing that.That's not Sams fault, or even Dean's; it's on him. He made the decisions that led him here, and for once, he won't allow himself to regret them.--Or the one in which Castiel has faith in all of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *chants*: Can't believe I'm doing this, can't believe I'm doing this, can't believe....
> 
> Major shoutout to Jscribbles and Malmuses for cheering me on through this! They're lovely and helped me with some ideas and my own uncertainty.

Castiel comes across the article at approximately three in the morning. He's not so sure how he found it, but the title grabs his attention almost immediately. It reads:  _ How Millennials Are Killing Love With One FWB At A Time.  _

 

Naturally, the article is complete clickbait and not that intricate. What Castiel gathers from it is that people are unfairly grouping each other and allowing for predestined and unjustified disdain to be a focus of their lives. But throughout the entire article, FWB is not explained. 

 

Castiel is fairly certain that he could ask Sam or Dean, but from the subject matter, he knows that won't end well. So, he clicks right over to Google and types in the strangely catchy acronym. What he finds surprises and inspires him in equal measure. 

 

The article could judge all it wanted; Castiel rather thinks the Millenials have intelligent minds. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It's the following afternoon when Castiel casually sits himself on the sofa in the “Dean-Cave” beside Sam. While Dean grabs snacks for the upcoming movie, Castiel corners Sam. 

 

“We are friends,” Castiel declares, jumping straight in, getting right to the point. 

 

Sam shoots him a faint smile. “Yeah, of course. Something on your mind?” 

 

“And what benefits do we receive from our friendship?” Castiel waits patiently, remembering to settle back into the cushions. Dean has told him one too many times that he's too stiff. 

 

“Um.” Sam blinks, casting his gaze around the room like the answer waits in the air. “I mean, we're friends, Cas. We, y'know, support each other and have each other's backs. That's- I am pretty sure that's a good portion of the benefits.” 

 

Castiel tilts his head, pondering that. Then, very firmly, he says, “I want more.” 

 

That settles between them, and Castiel watches Sam's eyebrows fold together. Castiel waits, watching Sam consider that in depth. His light brown eyes scrunch, lips pursing, both hands folding together and sitting in his lap. 

 

“Okay…” Sam draws the word out, then clears his throat. “We could, I dunno, hang out more often outside of cases. Just me and you - no Dean, no Jack, just us. I thought we were good, but I'm not against spending more time together.” 

 

That's not at all what Castiel meant, and he is sure he managed to mess up his proposal somehow. He's already impatient with this conversation, wanting a strict answer one way or the other. He rolls his eyes and leans forward, settling his elbows on his knees, looking at Sam seriously. 

 

“No, Sam,” Castiel insists, waving one hand between them, “I want  _ more.”  _

 

Sam frowns at him. “Uh, okay? We could take a trip, I've always wanted to go to China. Dean doesn't fly; he could stay back, watch the kid, and we can take a week away, or something.” 

 

Castiel thinks that might be an agreement, possibly. It's certainly on the right track, so he sits back in the seat, eyeing Sam in consideration. He'd chosen Sam simply because Sam is the most understanding out of all his friends. Not that he has many, but Sam would be more likely to give him what he wanted faster than Dean would. 

 

“Yes, that sounds wonderful.” It does actually, even without the possibility of sex. Castiel stands up with a smile, sudden excitement filling him up. “I'll go book the flights now.” 

 

“Wait -  _ now?  _ Cas, you serious?” Sam's eyebrows reform from their crumbled state and shoot up his forehead, opening his eyes to surprise. 

 

Castiel squints at him. “You said we would go.” 

 

“I mean, yeah, I guess I did,” Sam mutters, huffing out an amused laugh. “Alright, well, you go ahead then. Hey, go ahead and book the hotel rooms too.” 

 

Castiel beams at him. “Of course.” As he walks towards the door, Dean steps in with a bowl of popcorn. 

 

“Where ya goin’?” Dean asks, watching him head to the door with a frown. 

 

“China,” Castiel announces in a pleased fashion, brushing past him to go make arrangements. 

 

Dean's voice floats out behind him with faint annoyance and shock. “The fuck?” 

 

Sam's quiet chuckle follows. “Leave him alone, he's happy. Sit down, I'll explain.” 

 

Castiel immediately stops listening and searches out his laptop. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Castiel has been to China before, but only briefly. When he'd had his wings, he'd flown wherever he wanted, but never stayed long. For the little amount of time he'd spent there before, Castiel realized that China was beautiful. 

 

Now, they're in a part of China that Castiel hasn't seen before. It's busier, bustling with activity and lights. He and Sam step out of the airport shoulder to shoulder, and they both stop to admire before sliding into the strange taxi. 

 

Castiel had booked a nice hotel, far nicer than they had ever stayed in, and Sam expresses his pleasure by flinging himself down on the bed with a loud sigh. Castiel tilts his head, leaning against the mini-fridge, and he  _ considers.  _

 

Sam is handsome, Castiel knows this. He has broad shoulders, a kind smile, bright eyes, and truly magnificent hair that always smells nice. The one and only time Castiel had showered in the bunker after becoming a human - before Dean sent him away - he'd made sure to use Sam's shampoo and conditioner. And Sam is  _ big.  _ He's wide and broad, taller than most humans, and has hands that looked capable of cupping the world. 

 

Yes, Sam Winchester is handsome, far more handsome than some. In all honesty though, Sam does not stir arousal within him at inconvenient times. Which, Castiel thinks, is a  _ good  _ thing. In their lifestyle, that is just unnecessary drama. 

 

But for this, for what he's looking for, he doesn't  _ want  _ to feel a pull to Sam. According to most of the internet, friends with benefits at its base is exactly as it's aptly named. Just friends sharing the benefit of release, nothing more. Castiel does not need feelings for Sam, not in this, he simply needs to be attracted to him, and fortunately, Sam is a very attractive human. 

 

“Dude, this is the  _ best  _ fucking bed I have ever laid on,” Sam declares, head popping up from the pillows with a broad smile. 

 

Castiel can't help the quirk of his lips; Sam is very soft sometimes, which is endearing. “It has no magic fingers.” 

 

Sam snorts. “Doesn't even need it,” he says seriously, flopping over on his back. “I know you don't sleep, but dude, you've  _ got  _ to go feel your bed. What's your room number?” 

 

“I only booked one room,” Castiel tells him, arching an eyebrow. 

 

Sam doesn't miss a beat. “Alright, cool. Well, get over here and feel this shit. It's heaven. I mean, it  _ has  _ to be for somebody. Hell, it might be  _ my  _ heaven.” 

 

“I assure you, Sam, you are not dead.” Castiel pushes away from the mini-fridge and starts towards the bed. “Make room.” 

 

The thing is, Sam really  _ is  _ big, and he has no concept of making room. That's usually the reason Dean refuses to bunk with him; he always complains that Sam takes up too much space. And Sam really does, but that isn't his fault. 

 

So, Sam tries to make room, but it doesn't exactly work out. He scoots to one side, but that still leaves a good portion of his body lapping over to the other. But Castiel thinks that can work in his favor, so he doesn't even hesitate to crawl into the open space beside Sam and settle into his warm side. 

 

Castiel releases a soft sigh of surprise, a little taken aback by just how comfortable the bed is. It truly shouldn't matter to him, and it doesn't do anything for  _ his  _ comfort, but the bed itself is fantastic. Sam chuckles as he squirms father down to get more comfortable. 

 

“Good, right?” 

 

“This is very high quality.” 

 

Sam snorts. “Yeah, I'm already ready to never go home. Tomorrow is gonna be loads of fun; I already have three different spots picked out.” 

 

Castiel reaches out and tugs Sam's arm closest to him, pulling it up and out, lifting his own head and lying back within the crook of his elbow. Sam has really long arms, and they're thick too, and Castiel thinks it makes for a great pillow. Sam shifts to get more situated, leaving his arm where it is. 

 

“Go on,” Castiel encourages. 

 

“Yeah, so they have these libraries where you can check out a human and hear their stories, plus they have these cubby-holes where you can  _ sleep.  _ And I want to go to the plaza, just to take the tourist route. There is also a mausoleum I think you'll like.” 

 

“We have a whole week, Sam. This is a vacation; there is no need to rush. And we can always come back some other time.” 

 

Sam quirks a smile, turning his head to look at Castiel. “You think we'll keep doing this?” 

 

“I think it couldn't hurt every once in a while,” Castiel admits. 

 

And it's true. Spending time with Sam has always been very relaxing. And if they  _ do  _ get to the sex part of the trip Castiel is looking for, they could make it a reoccurring thing. Whenever they needed sexual release, as most humans - or in his case, human adjacent - do, they could just take a trip. 

 

“I'm glad you suggested this, man. This is… well, I've always wanted to do shit like this. And Dean's- he's great, don't get me wrong, but this isn't necessarily his thing.” 

 

“I think he'd enjoy it.” 

 

_ Castiel  _ certainly would, if those trips involved sex with Dean. But  _ that,  _ for certain, is definitely not one of Dean's things. Not with Castiel, anyway. 

 

“I mean, he probably would if he wasn't so wigged out about planes. But in every way he isn't, he's a simple guy. Give him a beer, some time with family, and a nice road trip in Baby, and he's pleased as pie; which if you include pie, he's the happiest he'll ever be.” Sam huffs a laugh, something fond. “If Dean was here, he'd have a good time, sure, but he would be just as excited to get home. You know what I mean?” 

 

Castiel does, so he simply replies, “Yes.” 

 

“But this is good, you know? We never- I mean, we don't really spend time together like this. It's always for a case or just lazing around the Bunker. We don't go out and  _ do  _ things, not like you and Dean,” Sam says quietly, his hand curling around Castiel's shoulder and squeezing. 

 

“Me and Dean do not go out and  _ do  _ things, as you say. We don't spend time like this together.” 

 

“No? So, you two don't go out every Thursday night to go grab a bite at the local diner when we're not on a case? You two don't have a show y'all are watching on Netflix together, one y'all  _ refuse  _ to watch without the other, even when a new episode comes on. He actually missed half a season when you were dead, wouldn't watch it without you. And don't lie and say y'all don't spend time together when he's washing Baby in the garage; you go out there every time and dip the sponge, just to talk.” 

 

Cas opens his mouth, closes it, pauses. He thinks that over very carefully, his chest feeling strangely warm. Then, the guilt hits him. 

 

“Oh,” he murmurs. “It's not that I don't want to spend time with you, Sam.” 

 

“No, I get it! Trust me, I get it. I know it's not like that because I don't spend enough time with you as it is.” Sam tilts his chin down to look Castiel in the eyes, lips tugging up. “The world is always ending, Cas. We have all the excuses in the world, and we're still friends. I'm just saying, this is good. We're trying and I'm glad you brought it up.” 

 

Suddenly, Castiel feels very guilty for wanting sex from Sam. He forces a smile on his face and starts to rethink the purpose behind this trip. Perhaps it would be best to simply have it be friends, but without the sexual benefits. 

 

He's going to see how it goes, he has to. 

 

“You should sleep,” Castiel says kindly, starting to sit up. “We have a busy day tomorrow, and we-” 

 

Sam clamps his hand down on Castiel's shoulder, practically tugging him back down. “Where do you think you're going? If you think I'm gonna have you stand up all night, you got another thing coming.” 

 

“Sam, I don't sleep.” 

 

“So lay beside me and count to infinity until I wake up. Just don't make me feel bad for kicking you off this unfairly marvelous bed.” 

 

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He flops back down on Sam's waiting arm, placing the back of his head into the crook of Sam's elbow. “Are you cold?” 

 

“Nah, you're pretty warm for an angel.” 

 

“Sort of angel.” 

 

Sam shifts onto his side, pulling his other hand down to shove it under his cheek and closing his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

 

Castiel does. 

 

The moment is quiet and still, full of comfortable ease. Castiel can't remember the last time he felt so calm, not like this. As Sam settles into a deep sleep, snores filling the silence of the room, he slowly begins to count in his head. 

 

When he reaches 1,437 in his mind, the arm under his head curls as Sam smacks his lips. Before Castiel can blink or lose count, the arm beneath him lifts around him, yanking him forward. His face ends up in the middle of Sam's chest, heart beating somewhere around his forehead. Sam isn't so much as cuddling him as he's trying to fold his arm close to his chest, but Castiel's caught in the crossfire, left with no option but to feel the rise and fall of Sam's chest bump into his nose. 

 

Castiel does not move and starts counting again. 

 

_ 1,438… 1,439… 1,440… _

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Yes, Dean, I'll make sure Sam does not catch a foreign illness.” 

 

“And I heard that if you eat a certain raw fish, it'll lay eggs in you and you can  _ die.  _ Do no let Sam eat sushi, you hear me?” 

 

“Dean, he is going to be fine.” 

 

“And  _ you!  _ Don't talk to strangers, Cas, I mean it. Not everyone who smiles at you is your friend. And if you're in some seedy part, don't follow anyone into any alleyways. Wait, do they even have alleyways in China? Not the point. The  _ point  _ is-” 

 

“Dean,” Cas cuts him off firmly, rolling his eyes even though Dean can't see him through the phone. “Stop worrying; we are  _ fine.  _ How's Jack?” 

 

Dean grunts, voice softening. “The kid's fine. Took him to a shooting range, one with all types of guns and shit. He's not so great with the bullets, but he's got a real talent with a bow.” 

 

“Archery?” Cas asks, eyebrows arching up. 

 

“Yeah, it surprised me too. I think I'm gonna buy him one, let him bring it on cases.” 

 

“I'm not sure-” 

 

“He's human now, Cas. He needs  _ something.  _ Besides, we'll watch after him.” Dean hums on the line, amusement curling in Castiel's ear. “I'm gonna take him to the zoo tomorrow, which he's not too excited for,  _ but  _ I think he'll end up having fun.” 

 

“From gun ranges to the zoo,” Castiel says dryly, lips quirking in the corners. 

 

“To be fair, I wanted to take him to the zoo, but he wouldn't agree until we went to the range, so.” 

 

“You're a good father, Dean.” 

 

Dean clears his throat. It's gruff and thick over the receiver, crackling in his ear. “Yeah, whatever. What about you? What y'all been doing?” 

 

Castiel hums quietly. “Well, Sam planned the first day for us. We've been to multiple libraries, and truly, America could learn a thing or two about architecture from China. We've also went to a few historical places on a tour, and Sam laughed while I whispered the inaccuracy of the facts in the back row. Now, we are enjoying dinner at a nice restaurant before turning in.” 

 

“It's night time over there already?” 

 

“Almost eight in the evening.” 

 

“Damn, it's nearly eight in the morning here.” Dean clears his throat, following words awkward and uncertain. “It, uh, sounds like you two are having a lot of fun. Practically a match made in heaven, heh.” 

 

Castiel narrows his eyes. “We compliment each other well, yes. What's your point?” 

 

“Just sayin’. Kinda sounds like a honeymoon or something,” Dean mutters. 

 

“That would require us to be married,” Castiel replies blandly, releasing a sigh. “And sex.” 

 

Dean coughs loudly, as if he's choking on air back home. “Why'd you sound vaguely disappointed?” 

 

Castiel barrels right over that. “Sam is returning to the table; we'll talk tomorrow.” 

 

“Oh… okay? Have fun, I guess.” 

 

“Goodbye, Dean.”

 

“Bye, C-” 

 

Lowering his phone, Castiel sits back in his chair with a frown. Something about that conversation unsettles him, but he can't pinpoint what it is. He's still thinking on it when Sam slips into his chair, eyebrows going up at the sight of his expression. 

 

“Let me take a guess,” Sam says sardonically, “you just got off the phone with Dean?” 

 

“How'd you know?” Cas asks weakly, lips twitching. 

 

“You only get tied up so obviously about him. So, what's up? He alright?” 

 

“Yes, fine. I think?” 

 

Sam picks up his glass and takes a sip, blinking at the wine. “Oh, that's- wow, that's really good. Why don't I drink wine more often? No, not the focus of this moment. Okay, so what are you not sure about?” 

 

“I think Dean misses us,” Castiel answers bluntly. 

 

Sam nods. “Undoubtedly, but we'll be back next week. Besides, he's got the kid. How's Jack?” 

 

“Apparently really good with bows.” 

 

“Like, archery?” 

 

“The very same,” Castiel confirms. 

 

“Huh. Well, that's cool. I was never all that great with those. Dad was always bigger on guns.” 

 

“I prefer a blade.” 

 

“Oh, I know,” Sam says with a smile stretching across his face. “I can count the amount of times you've ever  _ held  _ a gun on one hand.” 

 

Castiel shrugs. “They serve their purpose, but they lack intimacy. Also, I do not fully trust them to not fail. A blade never fails.” 

 

“You're a really scary dude sometimes, Cas, you know that?” 

 

“I've been told.” 

 

Sam's laughter erases his worry, and they enjoy the rest of their meal in relaxation. 

 

* * *

  
  


 

**Dean, 9:36am: hey wyd**

 

**Dean, 10:04am: how's the honneymoon**

 

**Dean, 10:05am: *honeymoon**

 

**Dean, 10:15am: y'all should take pics**

 

**Dean, 1026am: what does China even look like**

 

**Dean, 10:34am: you busy or smthn**

 

**Dean, 10:48am: jack just said fuck for the first time. im so proud?**

 

**Dean, 10:58am: okay now he won't stop saying it**

 

**Dean: 11:36am: we're had fun at the zoo today. want pics? i tried to get a gorilla to flip off the camera**

 

**Dean, 2:15pm: i couldn't get a gorilla to flip off the camera. but i did get banned from the zoo**

 

**Dean, 2:22pm: dude you busy?**

 

**Dean: 2:37pm: wyd**

 

**Dean: 3:49pm: you too busy to look at the phone?**

 

**Dean, 4:00pm: ok can you at least tell me you're not dead at the very fucking least**

 

**Dean, 6:12pm: dude**

 

**Dean, 6:36pm: cas seriously im about to send out search parties or some shit**

  
  


Castiel's phone buzzes on the nightstand as soon as he and Sam enter the door, Dean's name lighting up the screen. Immediately, Castiel feels his stomach drop and his throat go thick. 

 

“Oh no,” Castiel whispers. 

 

Sam groans quietly. “We left our phones.” 

 

“Yes,” Castiel confirms with dread. 

 

“Welp, I'm gonna go hit the shower, so I'll leave you to it.” Sam claps him on the shoulder and makes a beeline to the bathroom. “Good luck!” 

 

Castiel glares at the bathroom door, now shut as the shower starts, and he warily approaches his phone. It has sixteen text messages and seven missed calls from Dean, a banner right on his screen that makes him extra cautious to call. But it could be important or Dean could be drastic, so he presses the tiny button that would put him through to Dean. 

 

Two rings and Dean answers with, “Well, good to know you're not fucking dead.” 

 

“Sorry,” Castiel apologizes quietly. “Sam and I left our phones at the hotel by accident.” 

 

“I was up all night, worried sick. Had a great time at the zoo with Jack, figured I'd check in before bed, then you wouldn't answer.” 

 

“It wasn't intentional. I'm sorry you did not get any rest; I won't let that happen again.” 

 

Dean huffs, the exhale short and pissed off. “Well, while you and Sam had a grand fucking time all day, I stayed up all night thinking y'all might be dead.” 

 

“I know,” Castiel murmurs softly, feeling the guilt like a punch to the chest, one that could hurt. 

 

“Whatever, just… keep your fucking phone on you.” 

 

“Dean, I  _ am  _ sorry.” 

 

“It's fine, I'm sure you two got caught up together,” Dean replies sharply, the words bitter and a warning. 

 

Castiel does not catch the warning. “Exactly,” he says diplomatically, clinging to that. 

 

Dean scoffs. “Wow. Just… wow,” he croaks, sounding as if Castiel had said something wrong. 

 

Castiel has no idea what he's said that's wrong. He racks his brain, trying to locate where he'd fumbled, but he has no idea. 

 

“Dean? I'm not sure-” 

 

“Yeah, whatever. Look, have fun and keep your phone on you.” 

 

Before Castiel can say anything else, Dean hangs up, the click making Castiel blink rapidly. He pulls the phone from his face, staring at the screen, a heavy feeling in his gut. He suddenly wishes that he was home, wishes that he could see Dean's face, wishes he could fix this with Dean's emotions behind green eyes as his guide. 

 

Castiel has no idea what he's done wrong. 

 

“I take it that didn't go well?” 

 

Castiel jolts, head snapping up to see Sam standing in the bathroom doorway, nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is heavy with water, the clumped strands framing his strong jaw, brown eyes illuminated by the light from the bathroom. Steam follows him out, brushing past him and making droplets gather on his shoulders. Those droplets live amongst the ones that he carries with him from the shower; those travel down his chest, racing towards his hips, disappearing into the crevices of his muscles or below his towel. 

 

Sam is certainly attractive and Castiel has no doubts that sex with him would be, at the very least,  _ fun.  _ Even still, his heart isn't in it. 

 

“No,” Castiel admits with a sigh. “He is angry with me, but I think it's for more than just forgetting my phone.” 

 

Sam clicks his tongue. “Dean's always angry with you, Cas. It's… not a bad thing, trust me.” 

 

“Feels like it,” Castiel mutters, wrinkling his nose and putting his phone on the nightstand. 

 

Sam pads over to the nightstand on his side, picking up his phone. With a genuine grin, he turns the screen towards Castiel. “What do you see?” 

 

Castiel stares at the screen with a frown. “Nothing? Should I be looking for something?” 

 

“No, and that's my point. Dean was probably worried, sure, but not  _ that  _ worried. He probably figured our phones were dead or left here, so don't beat yourself up. If he was seriously concerned, my phone would have just as many notifications as yours, if not more.” 

 

“Why was he so angry then?” 

 

“He's upset you're ignoring him is all,” Sam says with an easy smile, shrugging his dripping shoulders. “Don't stress about it, Cas. A little bit of distance is a good thing; it makes the heart grow fonder.” 

 

“I don't understand,” Castiel tells him. 

 

Sam puts his phone down and leans over to grab the wad of clothes he'd forgotten to take with him to the bathroom. “I know, Cas, but that's okay.” Shaking his head, Sam walks to the bathroom, leaning against the door. Before he closes it with a deafening click, he chuckles and declares, “Dean doesn't understand either, so at least you're both in it together. Y'all will work it out eventually.” 

 

Castiel stares at the bathroom door for a long moment, frown on his face. “Work what out?” he calls, but Sam does not answer. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next day, Dean does not text or call at all. 

 

Castiel spends majority of his day with Sam checking his phone, unwilling to miss anything, but it's all for naught. Sam doesn't seem to mind, too caught up in the different attractions and places they go to. And by the time they get back to the hotel, Castiel is wound so tight he wants to smite something. Sam's ease does not make him feel any better. 

 

This, specifically  _ this,  _ is the reason Castiel wants to have sex. Besides the fact that he's done it before and knows it feels good, he is also acutely aware of the effect it could have on him. Sex is good for the body  _ and  _ mind, and while he doesn't exactly need it as an angel, he's just human adjacent enough to reap the benefits of it. 

 

There isn't much that being caught in the middle of two opposites - both of which he knows he's not so good at being - gets him as far as rewards, but he's not going to ignore what he does. 

 

Sexual release happens to be among the very few things that his not-so-angel-but-not-human state allows him, so he has no plans to miss the opportunity, or at the very least, attempt to form one. He can form an opportunity with Sam, if Sam is so inclined, so  _ why not?  _ He thinks it would work wonders on his reactions to Dean. 

 

Dean angers him? Castiel has sex with Sam. Dean riles him up? Castiel has sex with Sam. Dean does things that make him feel too much? Castiel has sex with Sam. 

 

Release and reward. Again,  _ why not?  _

 

Castiel is very logical. 

 

And right now, he's angry, riled up, and feeling far too much - even with Dean half a world away. So, he's suddenly very back on board with having sex, and he needs to see if Sam is welcome to it. 

 

Castiel follows Sam into their hotel room, closing the door with a satisfying snap. Without preamble, he says, “I want more.” 

 

“Well, the day is almost over, but we can go out again tomorrow,” Sam replies, smiling in soft amusement. 

 

“No.” Castiel grits his teeth and jerks his head from side to side. “I want more with you, Sam.” 

 

Sam's eyebrows do that crumbling thing again and he slowly lowers himself to the bed. “We agreed we'd be hanging out more often, didn't we? I mean, if you want to stay in tomorrow and watch a movie, spend quality time, or maybe just talk, I would-” 

 

“Sex, Sam. I want sex.” Castiel steps away from the door and crosses his arms. “With you. I want sex with you, right now.” 

 

Sam looks as if the very floor has been snatched from underneath him. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open, hands coming up to hover in the air like he can halt the conversation. Words dance between his teeth as his mouth opens and closes, and his brown eyes flash with so many emotions that Castiel almost can't follow them. Horror and disgust, thankfully, are not among them. 

 

But all Sam says is, “Oh god, Dean would  _ kill  _ me.” 

 

“This is not about  _ Dean,”  _ Castiel hisses, narrowing his eyes. “We are friends, we could both benefit from sexual release. Are you obverse to the notion?” 

 

“Oh shit, shit,  _ shit,”  _ Sam repeats, hands coming up to cover his mouth, stopping the litany of curses. 

 

This does not look good, so Castiel huffs. “You will not hurt my feelings, Sam. If you are not welcome to the idea, then we continue as we have been. If you are, we take a moment to partake in sexual activity before continuing as we have been. Either way, nothing changes between us.” 

 

Sam winces, as if in pain. “Okay, look, I'm not gonna lie to you, Cas. I'm not, um,  _ against  _ the notion, or whatever. I know exactly what you're proposing, and trust me, I get it. But-” 

 

“It's a yes or no, Sam. Do not tell me yes, then explain why you're saying no.” 

 

“Did I do that? I kinda did that, didn't I? Shit, is it hot in here, or is that just me? I'm fucking  _ sweating,  _ what the fuck?” 

 

Sam tugs at his collar, panic obvious on every centimeter of his face, and Castiel rolls his eyes. “Sam, do you want to have casual sex that means nothing or not?” 

 

“That's- that's, y'know, the dream, isn't it? I mean, it's- and  _ you.  _ You're very, y'know, you.” Sam flings a hand out and gestures up and down Castiel's body, tipping his head and widening his eyes like his words explain everything. “And we're friends, so it wouldn't- we  _ could,  _ and it wouldn't change anything, and it'd probably be really… good. Jesus. I'm going to hell, I'm  _ so  _ going to hell.” 

 

“I assure you, we'd find someway to get you out if you were, but you aren't.” Castiel can feel his lips tipping up, but he isn't sure what's funny. He should not be laughing at his friend's current state. “But you are entirely correct otherwise. It would not change us, so it is the exact meaning of a friend with benefits situation. And it would be very good.” 

 

Sam buries his face in hands and groans, hunching forward. “Stop it, you're making me- Jesus Christ, I'm so fucked,” he croaks, the words muffled between the spaces of his fingers. 

 

“Sam,” Castiel says very firmly, narrowing his eyes and marching over to stand in front of him, reaching out to peels Sam's hands away. “This is not a cause for crisis. It simply is or isn't. Pick one.” 

 

“Okay, but…  _ why?  _ I mean, why me? Why not… Dean? He's your friend,” Sam mumbles, brown eyes wide with a strange mixture of curiosity and panic. 

 

Castiel lifts one shoulder and squeezes Sam's hands in his own lightly. “Dean would most likely  _ not  _ be open to this. In all honesty, he may have reacted negatively and unreasonably. Things could have changed between us at the mere insinuation. You, however, would not act differently to me either way, no matter your answer.” 

 

Sam nods slowly. “Okay, I can see why you'd think that about Dean. Alright, so why do you want to have sex  _ right now?”  _

 

“I am frustrated currently and would like to relax. Sex is very good for many things, and it is incredibly healthy for the body and mind. Also, I have had sex before, once with April, multiple times with Daphne when I was Emmanuel. To put it plainly, it feels good,” Castiel explains. 

 

“You've never… with a man?” 

 

“No, but I am well aware of the… mechanics, as some would say. And you?” 

 

Sam snorts. “Dude, I went to college. And you know, no one ever assumes I'm into dudes, but that's insulting as  _ hell,  _ because I'm into whoever the fuck I wanna be into.” 

 

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. “So, you have?” 

 

“Yeah, couple 'a times,” Sam admits. 

 

“Okay. Your final answer?” 

 

“Oh man, Dean is going to  _ murder  _ me. Just string me up and bleed me dry.” 

 

“That sounds like a yes,” Castiel tells him seriously, arching an eyebrow impatiently. 

 

“We gonna tell Dean?” 

 

“Will that change your answer?” 

 

“No, I'm not- I won't, like, hide you. Or whatever. I'm not ashamed. I'm just saying… Dean is gonna-” 

 

“Forget Dean.” 

 

Sam laughs roughly, the sound slightly delirious, and his fingers clench on Castiel's. “Oh, trust me, right now I'd really like to.” 

 

“Why can't you?” Castiel asks, tipping his head to one side, squinting his eyes curiously. 

 

“Maybe you should… I don't know. Look, why don't you call him and ask if you two can be friends with benefits. Just see what he says.” 

 

“You're serious?” 

 

“Very,” Sam confirms. 

 

Castiel snaps up straight. “If I do this, will you forget about Dean and do what  _ you  _ want.” 

 

“Yeah. I mean- yeah,” Sam stutters awkwardly. 

 

With that, Castiel pulls his hands from Sam and reaches in his pocket. He clicks Dean's name and puts it on speaker, letting it ring. It takes longer than yesterday for Dean to pick up. 

 

“What?” Dean barks. 

 

Castiel does not hesitate. “Dean, I want to ask you a very serious question.” 

 

There's a beat of silence, then, “Okay?” Dean clears his throat, sounding less angry. “Is everything-” 

 

“Would you like to have sex with me on a purely - what's the term, ah - no strings attached bases? A friends with benefits situation, if you will.” 

 

The silence stretches, and Castiel can feel it against his skin, brittle and harsh. Suddenly, he wants to hang up and save himself from Dean's answer. 

 

“Sam put you up to this? ‘Cause this is a shitty prank, dude,” Dean mutters, the words barely making it through the line. 

 

“No, this is no prank. I am quite serious.” 

 

“No, really.” 

 

“Dean, answer the question.” Castiel heaves a sigh, shifting impatiently in place. “Would you have sex with me as a friend for mutual beneficial purposes.” 

 

“I'm not- uh, no?” Dean coughs awkwardly. “Cas, I don't think-” 

 

“No, that's fine. Do not feel uncomfortable; this was merely for informational purposes, Dean. I need to hang up now.” 

 

“What? Wait, I don't think you-” 

 

“Thank you for your honesty,” Castiel says sincerely. “I will talk with you tomorrow.” 

 

“Cas, I'm-” 

 

Castiel feels entirely too much satisfaction when he hangs up, partially because he's recently learned the human custom of  _ tit-for-tat  _ and also because this opens the doorway to having sex.  _ Finally.  _

 

“Well, shit,” Sam mutters. 

 

Castiel frowns at him. “That doesn't mean you should feel pressured, Sam. If you don't want to-” 

 

“Oh, I  _ do  _ want to, but I was hoping my brother wasn't that much of an idiot.” 

 

“I don't understand.” 

 

Sam shakes his head with a small smile. “You both never have and never do. Maybe that's a sign.” 

 

“You are not helping me understand.” 

 

“I know. Alright, look… we do this, we have to be prepared for Dean being  _ super  _ pissed off when he finds out. And trust me, he will find out and he  _ will  _ want to kick my ass.” 

 

“Your ass? Shouldn't he be angry with me for having sex with his little brother?” Castiel asks with a frown. 

 

“No.” Sam snorts and tilts his head back to look up at Castiel seriously. “Dean is head over heels for you, dude. He's gonna be pissed that I stole his man, even though you're not his man yet and I'm just… doing a  _ casual  _ thing with you.” 

 

Castiel blinks down at him. “Dean is not head over heels for me, Sam.” 

 

Sam arches an eyebrow. “Hate to say this, Cas, but you're a fucking dumbass when it comes to knowing how Dean feels about you. He's pathetically gone on you, man. And you're just as stupid for him as he is for you. Y'all are both two idiots in love and y'all both refuse to do anything about it.” 

 

“Is that why you're wary to have sex with me?” 

 

“Isn't that enough?” 

 

“Sam, I am an angel. I am older than Earth. I am capable of making my own decisions. I am also  _ not  _ in a relationship, not with anyone or Dean. You are a grown man with your own mind and you have no attachments. I want to have sex with no feelings involved,  _ that  _ is what I want right now. You seem to want that as well. If Dean has feelings for me, he's had more than enough opportunities to acknowledge them. What I feel for Dean is for me to deal with and not your concern.” 

 

“I know, but-” 

 

“But  _ nothing.”  _ Castiel reaches out and cups Sam's face, staring right into his eyes. “You are doing nothing wrong, not to me, not to Dean. Your brother and I are  _ not  _ together; we will most likely never get together. I want sex, plain and simple. Are you agreeable?” 

 

“Fuck,” Sam whispers. 

 

“That is precisely what I'm trying to do, yes.” 

 

“I'm  _ definitely  _ going to hell.” 

 

Before Castiel can even roll his eyes, Sam reaches out and grabs him by the hips, tugging him down in one smooth motion. Castiel barely gets the chance to evaluate what's happening before fingers hook behind his knees and hoist him up, tugging him forward and letting him go. He ends up on the platform of Sam's lap, hands still on Sam's face. 

 

Sam's hands are already tugging at his trenchcoat, shoving it away as if it personally offends him, and Castiel is immediately on board. With no finesse whatsoever, he yanks his trenchcoat off and flings it away, shuffling forward on his knees to settle more firmly in Sam's lap. Then, because he wants to, he pushes his fingers into Sam's hair and lifts himself up so he can kiss him from a higher vantage point. 

 

Sam's hands are still trying to rid him of his suit jacket, so Castiel waits to kiss him. He pulls back, leaning away to make quick work of his shirts. Sam watches him with a polite look of curiosity, like this isn't sexual in the least, but his eyes are dark with interest. 

 

“You could also be removing your garments,” Castiel points out, nodding to Sam's shirt. 

 

Sam blinks. “Oh, right,” he murmurs with a short chuckle, reaching down with long arms to tug it off and toss it on the other side of the bed. 

 

Then, there they are, both shirtless and seconds away from finding mutually beneficial release. Castiel is very excited for that part, more than anything. 

 

Again, he threads his fingers into Sam's hair, making a path through the soft strands with his fingers. This time, he follows through and leans down to press his lips to Sam's. At first, it's gentle and experimental, slow as they learn each other's mouths. They both let it grow more heated, gradually. 

 

Sam kisses with intensity, throws his whole body into it, licks into the seam of Castiel's mouth and  _ moans.  _ Teeth somehow get involved, nipping sharply and tugging, and it's Castiel's turn to make a noise; it's more of a groan, all rough and gritty, but Sam's whole body vibrates as if trembling for an encore. 

 

“Wait,” Castiel growls, tearing himself away. 

 

Sam immediately stops, softening around the edges, eyes slowly clearing to lucidity. “What? Wanna stop?” 

 

There's not an ounce of judgement in his tone or expression and it warms Castiel to his core. But it also is the farthest from what he wants, so he rolls his eyes. “No, lube.” 

 

That seems to be explanation enough because Sam lets him scramble off his lap, multi-colored eyes watching him curiously. Castiel goes to the one bag he'd brought along, mostly full with extra things Sam had wanted to pack. But in the pockets, Castiel had specifically packed lube for this very reason, and he gets it out now, waving it at Sam. 

 

“You planned this,” Sam says in awe, blinking rapidly in surprise. 

 

Castiel hums quietly and walks back over, shifting right back in Sam's lap like he never left. “Are you upset about that?” 

 

“No,” Sam admits, hands coming up to land on Castiel's waist, grip light. 

 

“Flattered?” Castiel asks. 

 

Sam licks his lips, eyes sparking with amusement, the hazel-blue swirling in delight. “A bit, yeah.” 

 

Castiel just reaches out to run his hands over the width of Sam's shoulders, faintly thinking that his father didn't make one mistake with either of the Winchester brothers. Then, very firmly, he tells himself not to allow Dean in this moment and gets back to what he wants. 

 

Sam's hands are, as he'd assumed,  _ perfect.  _ They are broad and thick and they grip just a little too hard, just on the knife's edge of harsh, rough in the best way. When Castiel ducks back down to kiss Sam again, mindlessly tossing the lube on the bed behind Sam's shoulder, Sam reaches out with those hands and yanks them chest to chest, holding just a little too tight but so utterly  _ amazing.  _

 

Castiel can feel the quick thud of Sam's heartbeat amidst his own, substantial and  _ there,  _ and he arches closer. Sam's nails dig into his back, dragging down, making it burn in the best way, so Castiel tugs on Sam's hair, forcefully guiding his head to the perfect angle so his mouth could get plundered by an eager angel. 

 

The tension is thick and demanding, and there is an urgency that Castiel wasn't prepared for. Sure, he'd thought this would be quick with how wound up and frustrated he is, but he had no idea it would be so…  _ hot.  _ But it is nothing to complain about. 

 

Sam suddenly tilts them to the side, long arms tightening around him, holding him in place. Without direction, Castiel hooks his legs around Sam's waist and lets himself be rolled to his back, humming in approval as Sam holds him off the bed with one arm and crawls them away from the bottom. When they reach the middle of the bed, Sam lowers him to the bed, bracing himself up with both hands then. 

 

Through the repositioning, they never stop kissing. 

 

Just like that, Sam has put them in the middle of the bed and is laying between his legs like he belongs there, and Castiel is very content. 

 

“Pants,” Castiel orders roughly into Sam's mouth. 

 

Sam grunts. “You first.” 

 

For a moment, they both watch each other to see who will break first. Castiel fully expects Sam to follow the order, but it's clear that Sam wants him to. Silently but simultaneously, they find compromise and just shed themselves of their pants at the same time. The underwear follows immediately after, almost in perfect sync. 

 

Then, it's skin on skin, hot and heavy. Castiel barely has time to breathe between each shudder his body gives under Sam's glorious hands. Sam takes up a lot of space, covers Castiel's whole body, pins him to the bed, touches too rough, grips too hard, kisses with blistering heat… and Castiel  _ wants it.  _ He wants it in a way that almost hurts, and he wants more,  _ now,  _ and Sam must know because he blindly grabs for the lube. 

 

“Here, here,” Castiel chokes out urgently, helping push the lube into Sam's waiting hands. 

 

There's a scorching look in Sam's eyes, something ardent and depraved all at once. But he blinks and visibly tucks it away as he roughly says, “I'm going to- is it okay if-”

 

“Yes, just-  _ yes.  _ Do it, Sam.” Castiel scoots up and spreads his legs, licking his lips, mouth so utterly dry with  _ want.  _

 

The look comes back bad tenfold. Even still, he is very gentle as he pours lube onto his fingers and reaches between Castiel's legs. And only then does Castiel think to look at Sam's dick, suddenly very curious. And as most of Sam, it is large, far larger than Castiel's. 

 

But Sam's hands are built for preparation because his fingers are thick and long, and the one that presses into Castiel so carefully is only the beginning. Sam truly has done this before because without warning, he scoots back and kneels between Castiel's legs, mouth smoothing down Castiel's dick with ease. 

 

Castiel does not have enough willpower to stop and consider both sensations. The press of weight into him with the heat enveloping him is honestly too much to decipher. He is aware he is moaning only because of the hum of approval Sam makes, the vibrations making heat curl in Castiel's stomach. 

 

The second finger is a stretch, the burn of it staving off any orgasm he might've been close to. It twinges but it's not a horrendous pain, either because he's an angel or because he can handle it - he isn't sure. 

 

Sam is still very much using his mouth to make Castiel see stars, so there isn't much else to do besides writhe and try not to grasp Sam's hair so hard. His skin is hot and flushed, itchy with need, an ache throbbing through every nerve. He wants, well, he  _ wants,  _ and Sam has to do something about that yesterday or Castiel  _ will  _ fight him. 

 

Castiel tugs on Sam's head, pulling him up and away. His wide mouth is spit-slick and swollen, eyes now a mixture of green and blue and hooded. “Everything okay?” Sam asks in a rasp. 

 

“I want  _ more.”  _

 

“Not yet.” 

 

“I'm fine,” Castiel insists, rolling his hips down and clenching around Sam's fingers as if to try and prove his point. 

 

“You're gonna need three, trust me,” Sam tells him seriously, easing a third finger in to prove his point. 

 

On one hand, it is  _ more,  _ but on the other, it completely steals Castiel's breath. Wordlessly, he guides Sam's head back down to start back using his mouth once again, needing the sensation to keep him from softening. It's not that it hurts too terribly, it's just that it doesn't feel good enough. 

 

But with Sam's dutiful work and the help of lube, Castiel goes from feeling speared to feeling full. His body adjusts, slowly but surely, and the burn sizzles into a sweet heated buzz that pours into every inch of him. His breath has came back in increments, just short wheezes that break into breathless moans. 

 

When Sam's fingers suddenly leave his body and his mouth stops working over him, it is the worst feeling Castiel has ever felt. He sucks in a sharp breath and jerks his hips, searching for something to fill the sudden emptiness. It is, without a doubt, the most horrible thing he's ever had the displeasure of experiencing. 

 

There's something about losing that fullness, like being left hollow. It's lonely and barren, and Castiel can feel it in the back of his mind. He reaches out, searching, desperate not to be left like this, and Sam is immediately there, somehow  _ knowing.  _

 

It hurts, of course it does. Three fingers loosened him up, sure, but they can't exactly imitate the feeling of Sam pushing into him so deep. It seems to go on forever, the stretch past the point of discomfort, but Castiel clenches his teeth and deals with it. He knows pleasure follows and would rather this than the previous feeling, so he forces himself to relax and breathe. 

 

It's slow-going, coaxing, gentle. Sam strokes Castiel's dick, hand slick with lube, working to keep him aroused. As the discomfort slowly subsides, Sam leans back and braces his hands on Castiel's legs, leaving his dick bobbing alone. Sam spreads his legs for him and slowly drags out before carefully rolling right back in. 

 

The air punches out of Castiel and he realizes that he needs something to hold onto; he grabs the sheets beneath his hands, twisting his fingers and holding on with all his strength. 

 

That, as they say, is the beginning of the end. 

 

Like the kissing, it starts out gentle and slow, just a loose roll of Sam's hips. When it gets to the point that Castiel is meeting him halfway, whole body relaxing and demanding more, Sam allows things to unfurl into  _ urgency.  _

 

With one smooth motion, Sam grabs Castiel behind his knees and pushes his legs together. They meet and cross at the ankle, making his dick lie against his stomach, and Sam grins at him as he leans forward. Castiel's ankles bump into Sam's ear, but all he feels is the angle change. 

 

Castiel can feel  _ every inch  _ of Sam. 

 

Again, Castiel has lost his breath. This time, he does not get the chance to gain it back. 

 

Sam's not pounding away, but he certainly isn't going slow either. He keeps pace, working in and out without missing a beat. He's broad and lithe, like a powerhouse who knows his way around being graceful. 

 

They work for it together, pushing and grunting and groaning, squeezing every ounce of pleasure out of the experience. It's rough and harsh and so,  _ so good;  _ Castiel has needed this so much. He moans and demands, not exact words falling from his lips, a bit of enochian slipping through, and Sam bites his lip and  _ looks  _ down at him with that expression. It's dangerous, but the kind you grin at. 

 

Sam doesn't have the hands to do it, so Castiel strokes himself to the pace of Sam's hips. Fighting for release, urgent and needy. He's whimpering by the time he reaches orgasm, back arching off the bed, litany of words from too many different languages breaking past his teeth, every muscle clenching in his body, including the one Sam is currently pressing into. 

 

And Sam just… keeps right on  _ going.  _

 

Castiel has to stop touching himself, his whole body twitching. He is what they call  _ fucked out,  _ but Sam is rocking away. It doesn't hurt, but it's sensitive, and Castiel can't exactly form words or thoughts. 

 

Fortunately, before it grows too sensitive, Sam releases a groan, hips slamming forward once, twice, three times. Then, he's finding his own release, and Castiel thinks it's a beautiful sight. He pulls out, just before, coming on the bed rather than in Castiel, which is better if Castiel is honest. 

 

They've worked so hard for this, now they're  _ both  _ spent. Sam lets his legs down and flops beside him, releasing a long, pleased sigh. Castiel doesn't feel empty, not like before, but the desire to touch is heady within him. Sam does not protest when Castiel presses into his side, grabs his hand and pulls it to his chest, starts to trace the veins. 

 

“Good?” Sam asks. 

 

Castiel huffs a small laugh. “Perfect.” 

 

“Any comments or concerns?” 

 

“No, it was… exactly what I wanted.” 

 

“Glad to be of service.” Sam turns his head with what looks like maximum effort. “Friends with benefits; that's what we are now.” 

 

Castiel doesn't know why he says it, but the words flow out anyway. “I could love you.” 

 

Sam is perfect in every single way, no one can convince Castiel otherwise, not after his eyes soften and he murmurs, “Yeah?” 

 

“Yes,” Castiel tells him honestly. 

 

“Like you love Dean?” 

 

“Like that, but specially made for you.” 

 

Sam quirks a smile. “I think you'd like to.” 

 

Cas just stares at him. “People are capable of loving more than one person, Sam.” 

 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees lightly. “It's not the same though. Could be close, but never the same.” 

 

“It's the differences that make it genuine; the amount is limitless.” 

 

“I'll take your word for it.” 

 

“As you should.” 

 

Sam just curls into him, lying his head on Castiel's chest, sighing sleepily. Castiel cards the hand not holding Sam's through his hair, gently lulling him to sleep. When Sam begins to snore, Castiel closes his eyes and begins counting again. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


They have sex every night after that they're in China. Not once is it easy and simple. They work for it together, rough and wringing everything from each moment. It lulls Castiel into a sense of calm, makes it easier to laugh, helps him loosen his limbs when he's more angel than not. 

 

The best part is that things don't change between them. If anything, they're closer, which is good in Castiel's opinion. He knows that being intimate with someone is crossing into different territory, but for them, they straddle the line. 

 

They are friends who have sex and talk late into night. They are people who have sex that share a connection of friendship. They are Sam and Cas, as they always have been, but  _ more.  _

 

Castiel has been wanting more. 

 

They have sex twice before they have to catch their flight, somehow both on the same page about getting more time in before going home. They'll make plans along the way, Castiel will make sure of that. This won't be the end. 

 

Besides, Castiel sees how Sam watches him now. Eyes tracking him across the room, a knowing glint in his eyes, a danger lurking just beneath. It mostly consists of wanting to get Castiel naked, but that's just fine by him. 

 

The one thing they haven't talked about is  _ Dean.  _

 

Castiel doesn't much care to talk about Dean with Sam. He'd meant what he said about it being his business what he felt. But that doesn't mean Sam was wrong. He  _ does  _ love Dean, possibly always will, perhaps will never love another the same. 

 

_ But  _ that doesn't mean Castiel will sanction himself off and miss out on the things he wants, not for someone who doesn't return the sentiments or isn't capable of facing up to doing so. If it was complicity or ignorance, Castiel could forgive it. But he knows what they share sometimes, even when Dean brushes it off; it makes him question his own feelings, confusion like a second language when it comes to Dean. Even still, confused he may be, a complete fool he is not. 

 

Dean probably truly does feel what Sam says he does, though Castiel will never be certain. But from what he's gathered through the years, Dean does not  _ want  _ to feel those things, and that, more than anything, tells Castiel all he needs to know. 

 

Castiel is not some pretty flower waiting to be picked. He is not someone who waits among the sidelines. He takes what is, learns what it means, accepts it and moves on. Dean can love him, can be  _ in love  _ with him, but if he doesn't want to be… it all means next to nothing. 

 

It's not about being worth something; Castiel isn't, he knows that. It's just what he's willing to lie down and take, and what he's not. 

 

Sam is…

 

Sam is getting back up, not taking it. And he's something more, an opportunity, something new to explore. It's easy with him, almost frighteningly so, and Castiel hadn't lied when he'd said he could love him. That's the complete truth. 

 

Without a question, above anything else, there is nothing Castiel would not do for his family. He loves them, loves them more than he'd loved God, and that is entirely the reason heaven can no longer be his home. For every single one, he'd give his life; for every single one, he  _ has.  _

 

But he loves them all in different ways. 

 

Long ago, he loved Dean in a way that left him with a bated breath of hope. Always believing that something would happen, one day. It never did, never does, never will. That is okay. Castiel loves him still, will love him until he can no longer return from the dead. It's different now though; it's like walking among soil he knows won't grow, thankful for what it has given him before, content with it being done. 

 

He's always loved Sam as a friend, always found solidarity within him. He's more than some abomination, like he'd originally assumed. The angels, all of them, not so keen on Sam Winchester were utter fools. Sam saved the world countless times and still tries everyday. Castiel adores Sam, and now with their intimacy in the mix, it's like spotting a rainbow among the horizon; exquisite backdropped by beauty. 

 

But the truth of the matter is, Castiel has something with Dean, something he cannot let go of, something he doesn't want to cut away. Where he refuses to let go of Dean, he's now reaching out for Sam as well. 

 

Things have gotten complicated; Castiel is just now seeing that. 

 

That's not Sams fault, or even Dean's; it's on him. He made the decisions that led him here, and for once, he won't allow himself to regret them.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean, for all his posturing, really has missed them. 

 

It's only been a week, but Castiel has learned firsthand what a week could change. Dean tries to act like he hasn't missed their faces, but it's hard to cover when he gives them hugs for a little too long. Usually, when one is gone, the other is there to sooth the strain. Sam and Castiel leaving all at once was the opposite of that. 

 

They've barely gotten hugs over with before Dean is gripping Castiel's shoulder and saying, “Hey, can I talk to you alone for a minute?” 

 

Castiel is fairly certain this is about the phone call, so he simply nods. As he follows Dean, he shoots Sam a look. Sam just smirks as he heads in Jack's direction, arms open wide. 

 

They end up in Dean's room with the door shut, and Castiel frowns at him. “Is this about the phone call?” he asks bluntly. 

 

“Yeah.” Dean bobs his head, throat working as he averts his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you about that.” 

 

“Dean, I assure you-” 

 

“I said no.” 

 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “Are you reconsidering?” 

 

Dean's gaze lands somewhere around his feet, tongue poking out between his lips, red blooming in his cheeks, and Castiel thinks,  _ oh no.  _

 

“I'm not- it's not like that,” Dean finally mumbles, and Castiel is instantly relieved. Then, Dean continues. “You didn't let me explain on the phone, but I was trying to say - or work up to saying - that I wouldn't be able to be your fuck buddy.” 

 

“Dean, that's alright. Sam and I-” 

 

“No, let me finish. The reason isn't because I don't want to have sex with you.” 

 

“Dean, seriously,” Castiel interrupts, a sense of foreboding pooling low and sticky in his chest. 

 

Dean just looks up with beautiful determined eyes, the green shining with everything Castiel has seen before, practically shooting laser love beams at him, and this  _ cannot  _ be happening, not now. 

 

“Let me finish, Cas. The reason I said no is because I'd need more than just sex from you,” Dean says, words slow and careful, planned. 

 

Castiel suddenly has a mental image of Dean practicing this in the mirror and he wants to curl into a ball and cry. “Dean, I-” 

 

“I couldn't be your fuck buddy, but I could be your lover. I'm talking the whole nine yards; domestic bullshit, you got it, sex whenever, I'm down, PDA, within reason. I know I should have said these things before, but… Cas, I'm saying them  _ now.  _ I am really kinda stupid in l-” 

 

Castiel reaches up and smacks a hand over Dean's mouth, practically shoving the words back down Dean's throat. “Please, Dean, just… shut up.” 

 

Dean's lips close behind his palm, and Castiel's stupid hand tingles. This is the worst day of his life and his body still doesn't fail to remind him just how much Dean affects him. Carefully, Castiel pulls his hand away and takes a deep breath. 

 

“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, I gotta admit. I kinda expected it, but still,” Dean mutters, clearing his throat. 

 

Castiel feels his face soften. “No, don't do that. It's not what you think. I am…  _ exceptionally  _ happy to hear this, you truly cannot fathom that. I have felt that way for you for many years, Dean.” 

 

“So, what's the problem?” Dean purses his lips and waves his hands around, looking doubtful. “Bad timing or something? Shouldn't we be making out right about now?” 

 

Castiel kissed Sam nearly an hour ago. He blinks rapidly and clears his throat. “Dean, I understand exactly what you are feeling, and know that it is mutual. But… you shouldn't want me. I am not… good. I have done things, things you will not be able to forgive me for.” 

 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Dude, I know all the stupid shit you've done. I've forgiven you already.” 

 

“Yes, I understand that. But you need to grasp that I have branched out past my feelings. Though I feel for you as I do, as you do for me… apparently,” Castiel murmurs weakly, a constant thrum of despair squirming in his chest, “I was sure that you did  _ not  _ feel such a way, and if you did, I felt you wished you didn't. So, I… pressed on, so to speak.” 

 

“Okay, that's- I don't like it, but I get it. You figured we'd never happen, so you fucked other people. That's not a huge deal; I did the same.” 

 

“Yes, but this is wholly different. I did this with the impression that you'd never feel such a way. It was what you'd call a point of no return.” 

 

Dean heaves a sigh and steps forward, reaching out to cup Castiel's face, staring at him with a stupidly pleased smile. Castiel feels guilt coil in his gut as Dean shuffles close and runs his thumb under his eye. It makes his skin tingle in the best way, but his stomach twists. 

 

“Cas,” Dean says softly, “I don't  _ care.”  _

 

With that, he dips in and presses a sweet kiss to Castiel's lips. It's languid and new, so sensitive, like flying or obtaining his grace yet again. It's home and heaven and so completely engulfing that Castiel cannot stop himself from threading his fingers into Dean's hair and pressing closer. 

 

Where Sam's kiss had been fire and intensity, Dean's is full of care and purity. Castiel can feels this all through his body; it makes his toes curl in his shoes. Dean opens for Castiel, inviting him in with a tantalizing brush of tongue, and Castiel is helpless to do anything but chase. 

 

Dean hums happily, so slowly breaking away, eyes so full of delight that Castiel cannot breathe. They stand there in each other's spaces, breathing the same air, and Castiel feels  _ complete.  _

 

Dean crack a smile. “Besides,” he continues, like he never stopped for a kiss, “it's not like you fucked Sam or anything.” 

 

Castiel feels his face drain of color, all the blood seeping away to his heart as it hammered rapidly in his chest. He knows he's gone ashen, knows distinct horror has settled in his expression, knows that guilt has sparked his blue eyes. He knows this because Dean slowly pulls back, a guarded look in his gaze, throat clicking audibly as he swallows. 

 

“Dean,” Castiel croaks, voice a raspy mess of emotion. 

 

Dean just shakes his eyes. “Tell me you didn't.” 

 

“Dean,” Castiel repeats, and this time, the name breaks on his tongue. 

 

“You slept with  _ Sam?”  _ Dean asks, voice still unbearably quiet and shaky. 

 

“I- it was… I  _ told  _ you that I was pressing on.” Castiel feels his hands dangle at his side, twitching restlessly like they still want to be in Dean's hair. 

 

“With my brother? Cas, you-” Dean cuts himself off, blinking rapidly. “How many times?” 

 

“Dean…” 

 

“How many fucking times?” 

 

“Several. Six, if you want a number.” 

 

“Who fucked who?” 

 

“Dean, that isn't-” 

 

“Cas, so help me god, if you want me to  _ ever  _ let you near me again, you'll answer the question.” 

 

Castiel closes his eyes for a brief moment, throat bobbing as he slowly opens them. “Both, we-” 

 

The moment the word leaves his mouth, Dean whirls away, both hands pushing through his short hair. Castiel watches as he splinters apart, so many emotions filtering through him at once. 

 

“Did you plan to continue doing it, even after China?” Dean asks, the words faint. He slowly turns around,the most horrifying look on his face, one Castiel has never seen before.  _ Heartbreak.  _

 

“Dean-” 

 

“Answer me!” 

 

Castiel does not flinch, but it is a close thing. He takes in a shuddering breath. “Yes, we had all intentions of continuing the friends with benefits situation.” 

 

“Get out.” 

 

“Dean, you need to listen to me. It wasn't our-” 

 

“Get out, Cas. Just, please.” Dean turns exhausted eyes on him, the green muted with pain. “Get out.” 

 

Castiel swallows around the lump in his throat, blinking around the sting in his eyes. There is a weariness hanging around Dean now, as if all the energy and hope has seeped out of him. Betrayed by the two he loves the most; it's only fitting he'd look so defeated. This is infinitely worse than if he'd been angry, this is like watching innocence shatter, like crushing dreams without care, like being the earth that rotates around the sun, yet scoffs at the moon. 

 

Dean, at this very moment, is breaking. He does not wish for Castiel to witness it, does not hope Castiel will put him back together. And it is not Castiel's place to deny him his privacy, especially since he's denied them both something much greater. 

 

_ Love.  _

 

As the door slips shut, Castiel hears one heart wrenching sob before he walks away. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dean does not come out of his room for the rest of the day or well on into the night. Castiel spends time with Jack and tries not to show just how utterly horrible he feels, but he sags into himself the moment Jack excuses himself to his room for the rest of the night. 

 

Sam simply touches his shoulder and jerks his head, wordlessly asking him to follow. Castiel walks behind him, forcing himself not to blink, hating his itchy eyes. The door to Sam's room closes and that's it. Castiel gets in one hitched breath, the sound shattering into a sob, and Sam engulfs him into a hug, letting Castiel cry into his shirt, cupping the back of his head and holding him. 

 

It's one of the worst feelings Castiel has ever felt. He's cried plenty, mostly when he was human and abandoned, the loneliness getting the best of him, especially as he was hit with emotions full force for the very first time. But  _ nothing  _ compares to this. The tears wrench their way out of him, tearing him apart as they make their escape. With it comes the struggle for air, like panic itself has reached for his lungs and gripped them. He can't breathe, everything hurts, every limb shakes, and it's the hardest and ugliest he's ever cried. But Castiel does not  _ care,  _ and he cannot stop. 

 

He manages to keep it at bay for a moment and lifts his head to look at Sam, reaching up to scrub at his face. Sam gently peels his hands away and brushes the tears, sadness obvious in every line of his face. Every angle and shadow tells a story of each of Sam's regrets, but Castiel knows he isn't among them. 

 

“I told you,” Sam says simply. 

 

Castiel's laugh is hollow and short. “Yes, you did.” 

 

“You should go to him,” Sam tells him, nothing but encouragement on his face. 

 

“I don't regret you,” Castiel blurts out, blinking rapidly. “Sam, I would not take it back if I could. I would do it again, given the chance.” 

 

Sam strokes the skin under his eyes, fingers oh so gentle. “Then why are you a mess?” 

 

“I told you people can love more than one person.” 

 

“But he is your person, Cas. He's the one, if you had to choose, and that's  _ okay.”  _

 

“No, it's not.” Castiel grits his teeth. “I want- Sam, I want….” The words echo in his brain, too strange and outlandish to speak:  _ everything, all of it.  _

 

_ Both.  _

 

“He has a right to be upset,” Sam says gently, big hand sweeping up Castiel's arm. 

 

Castiel shakes his head. “No, he doesn't. He and I were not together, you and I did nothing wrong. If he cannot forgive that, then that is  _ his  _ problem.” Suddenly angry and full of renewed vigor, Castiel pivots on the spot with all intentions to go and speak some sense into Dean. 

 

“Oh, no you don't,” Sam quips, reaching out to curl one unfairly long arm around him and pull him back. “Look, Dean's probably handling this really badly. It'll come to head, we'll all get to say our peace, and we'll all either be okay or we won't. But right now is a bad time to be riled up. You're either going in there to grovel and make sweet love or you're not going.” 

 

Castiel huffs and turns in Sam's grip, tilting his chin up and clenching his jaw. “I will be residing with you tonight then, Sam.” 

 

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, I guessed it. Alright, come on. This bed is barely big enough for me, but we will make it work.” 

 

“Are we going to have sex?” Castiel asks, an eyebrow furrowing as he lets Sam lead him towards the bed. 

 

“No,” Sam murmurs, looking at him with a sad little smile. “We're going to lay here together, feeling like guilty pieces of shit. You're gonna cry some more, I'm gonna hold you while you do it. That's it.” 

 

Castiel heaves a sigh. “I think I'd prefer sex.” 

 

Sam's genuine laughter is worth the lie. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The following morning starts off horrifically. 

 

Sam and Castiel exit his room at the same time, one right after the other, talking quietly amongst themselves about whether they should send Jack away for a few days or not. So caught up in that, neither notice Dean until they both collectively bump into him. He takes one look at them both and the room they've both walked out of together and his face collapses into worrying anger. 

 

“You've  _ got  _ to be fucking joking,” Dean says, and that's all his warning is. 

 

Sam, for all his training, does not deflect the first punch that lands. He takes that, as if he feels he deserves it. But when Dean grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall, hand coming forward faster and harder than before, Sam no longer takes it. 

 

Castiel realizes very belatedly that Sam and Dean Winchester are fighting, and not just tussling, but seriously  _ fighting,  _ all because of him. 

 

That, and the dread that accompanies it, is what pushes him forward to yank them apart. He digs deep, reaching as far in as he can, calling his grace forward for the extra boost. They are strong men, braver and more determined that any man Castiel has encountered, but they are still just  _ men.  _

 

With one hand on each of their collars, both of his eyes glowing a bright blue, Castiel shoves them into Sam's room with a growl of warning. They quit making swipes at each other as soon as they were pulled apart practically by their scuffs. Now, they just stumble into the room and whirl around with identical looks of indignation. 

 

“Our child is just up the hall,” Castiel hisses, jabbing a finger towards the door. “I will  _ not  _ have him hear fighting between us. Now, if you two wish to commence with the idiocy, see yourselves out and do it elsewhere.” 

 

“Whatever,” Dean scoffs, making to head towards the door with a glare. 

 

Castiel steps in his path, hand coming up to land on his chest, halting him square in his tracks. Dean's gaze flicks down to the hand resting on his chest, throat sticking, tongue peeking out as he licks his lips mindlessly. Castiel can feel his heart picking up speed under his hand. 

 

“You are going to stand here and listen to me, do you understand?” Castiel doesn't wait for an answer. “I love you, I love Sam. I love you both differently, yet both an infinite amount. Dean, Sam and I are _friends._ I wanted sex, he didn't mind helping me, we came to an agreement. Was it good? Yes. Did we plan to do it frequently? Yes. Do I still want to? _Yes._ Do I love you any less, any differently? Not in the least.” 

 

Sam clears his throat, pointing vaguely at his bedroom door. “Maybe I should-” 

 

“You are not going anywhere, you're going to listen as well. I love Dean, I have  _ always  _ loved Dean, and I always will. I am in love with him. But do not, for one second, think that I am not capable of loving you as well. I am, I do.” 

 

“This is all fan-fucking-tastic, but I'd literally rather be anywhere but here right now,” Dean snaps, heart still hammering away beneath Castiel's hand. 

 

Castiel pins a narrow look on him. “You're angry, you're hurt, I understand. I am as well, for you, for  _ us.  _ But Dean, we were not together. You have felt this way for me for  _ years,  _ yet you never said a word.” 

 

“I fucking know that, Cas! Don't you think I've been beating myself up about that as it is? I was too fucking late, like always.” Dean reaches up to swipe a hand over his mouth, chuckling bitterly in his palm. “Course, just my luck, just like me. What the fuck is my life?” 

 

“My  _ point  _ is that you should not feel betrayed; no one has done anything wrong.” Both Sam and Dean fix him with flat looks, and he heaves a sigh. “I am going to ask you both a question and I want an honest answer. Do not lie to me.” 

 

Sam clears his throat awkwardly. “Um, is going to get me hit again, because I-” 

 

“Do you still want me?” Castiel cuts him off firmly, swinging blue eyes between them both. 

 

Dean huffs a shocked breath. “The fuck kinda question is that? You need us to stroke your ego or something?” 

 

Castiel arches an eyebrow. “Or something,” he drawls sarcastically. “I'm not asking about physical desire, Dean. If I were to lay my hand over the front of your pants, you would rise to my touch.” Without missing a beat, Castiel flicks his gaze to Sam. “And I can smile at you a certain way that will make you look at me like you wish I was naked.” 

 

Sam's face almost makes Castiel chuckle. His eyes flicker to Dean in slight panic, large body leaning away like he's prepared for a smack. Bravely, he mumbles, “Okay, so what  _ are  _ you asking?” 

 

“I'm asking if you both still want me. Outside of just sexually, do you want me as we have been, Sam, with just our little more and our opportunities? And you, Dean, do you want me as we could be, as we both should have been long before now?” Castiel asks seriously, watching them intently. 

 

“Yeah, Cas.” Sam clears his throat, averting his eyes to the floor, looking ashamed. “Yeah.” 

 

Dean lets out a long breath, slow and harsh. “What kinda shit are you getting at, Cas? You tryna pick one of us? How the fuck-” 

 

“Answer the question, Dean,” Castiel cuts him off firmly, narrowing his eyes. 

 

“Fine,” Dean snaps, nostrils flaring. “Yes.  _ Yes.  _ Is that what you want to hear?” 

 

“I've been wanting to hear that for years, but that is besides the point. I have a suggestion for our dilemma. See, I want both.” 

 

“Both?” Sam and Dean echo in unison, like the word itself is a foreign language. 

 

Castiel nods. “Yes. I want  _ both  _ of you. That is selfish and far more than I deserve, but I have come too far now to just give up.” 

 

“You can't want  _ both,  _ what kinda bullshit is that?” Dean sputters, the color slowly draining from his face. “That is my brother and it's fucking  _ disgusting.  _ Who the fuck do you take us for?” 

 

Castiel squints at him, trying to unearth Dean's complete horror, then it clicks. “Oh! You believe I'm insinuating incestual relations.” 

 

Sam grimaces. “Yeah, dude. Wouldn't be the first time we've heard that. It's, ya know, one thing for it to be a joke or just fiction, but when girls have asked us, offered to pay… it's just real messed up.” 

 

“No, no, that's not at all what I meant,” Castiel assures them quickly. “I did not mean both simultaneously; that defeats the whole purpose anyway.” 

 

“So, what, we rotate weeks or days? Sam gets Tuesday and Thursday, I get Monday and Wednesday, and you get the weekend off? This the shit you tryna pull?” Dean snaps, looking at Castiel as if he's going a little insane. 

 

Sam's eyebrows jump in surprise. “That's actually not a bad idea.” He makes a face when Dean shoots him a glare. “What, you're the one who said it.” 

 

“Shut  _ up,  _ Sam,” Dean grits out. 

 

Castiel groans loudly, rolling his eyes and tipping his head down for a moment. He should spare himself now, get out while he can. There are moments that they are complete  _ idiots,  _ so utterly human, and damn it all, Castiel  _ loves  _ them. 

 

“Both of you, be quiet. Here is my proposal; you can refuse for any reason and won't have to explain yourself. Simply put, I want the both of you, both in seperate ways.” 

 

Sam immediately clears his throat a mutters, “Cas, maybe I should-” 

 

“Just hear the dude out,” Dean interrupts with a roll of his eyes, reaching out to smack Sam's shoulder. 

 

Castiel barrels right over that. “Here is what I have in mind - I date the both of you simultaneously, but sexual activity is seperate; I am not a trophy to be passed around. I spend time - sexual or not - with whomever I wish; I am there whenever you need me. I explore whatever is happening between us, but whether you discuss it amongst each other is to your discretion; I will never speak to the other about what happens. When we are in public, whomever can be affectionate however - I do not care what people think of me, so that will be for you to decide. No cause for jealousy, I am yours, you are mine; it truly is as simple as that.” 

 

“And what if we…  _ don't  _ wanna do that?” Sam asks quietly as Dean mulls that over. 

 

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Sam, you either want me, or you don't. If you do not, that is fine, but do not pretend otherwise.” 

 

“I do, I'm just asking.” 

 

“In that case, seeing as you're both interested, if this cannot be arranged… it is either both of you or neither of you. Of course, if things do not work out - for example, if Sam falls in love with someone, or Dean decides we are better as friends - you may bow out as you wish, as long as you no longer want me. If you still do, but you decide against working at this, then we all shall quit and go back to normal. Which, that is also an option as well.” 

 

Dean releases a long whistle through his teeth, giving a quiet chuckle. “You drive a hard bargain, Cas. You're really into this, ain't ya?” 

 

Castiel frowns. “I believe it will work, maybe with some adjustments. I've done my research; this is actually fairly common.” 

 

“Wait, it is?” Sam blurts, perking up at the mention of research. 

 

“Yes,” Castiel confirms. “Some people are in open relationships, which would be closest to what Dean and I would be doing. It allows free reign to date or have sex with others while staying in a relationship. Essentially, that is what we'd be doing, and you'd be my other lover.” 

 

“Yeah, but that's my brother,” Dean says, wrinkling his nose. “That's just…  _ weird.”  _

 

“Our very lives are weird; this is actually probably far more normal than the things we've been through,” Castiel replies seriously, arching an eyebrow. 

 

Sam clicks his tongue lightly. “He's got a point.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mutters, rolling his eyes. Then his green orbs brighten. “Wait, so does that mean I can sleep with other people?” 

 

Castiel shrugs. “If you so wish. As long as we are all open and communicate, I do not see where this could go wrong.” 

 

Dean suddenly looks much more on board. “Awesome,” he murmurs, lips spreading into a smile. 

 

“So,” Castiel prompts, “do we have a deal?” 

 

Castiel watches as Sam and Dean share a long, searching look. They seem to have a conversation with their eyes alone, the twitches of their eyebrows and lips like a language Castiel may never learn. But he's surprised to find he doesn't actually mind that; he's far from wanting to be brother material. No, he wants  _ more,  _ craves it like something twisted and forbidden, aches for it like a long lost lover. 

 

Then, Dean turns and stares at Castiel, green eyes glinting in challenge. “A trial run. We want a trial run, one where we can adjust rules and see how things go. I'm thinking… a month?” 

 

Sam nods sharply. “That should give us enough time to test it out.” 

 

Castiel considers them, tilting his head to the side, humming quietly. “Alright, that sounds fair.” 

 

Dean grins wide. “Fantastic, so are we shaking on it, or…?” 

 

“I've actually promised to take Jack to up to the dog park to play with the puppies they bring every week. So, why don't you two… ya know,” Sam says with a faux innocence, eyes bright with amusement. 

 

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Go, take our child to see puppies. Dean… come with me.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


In this, Castiel is the more experienced one. 

 

Mumbling with embarrassment, Dean fumbles through his past experiences. “Gave a dude a blowjob once; he paid me. I mean, I wanted to anyway, but the money helped. I've kissed a couple guys, mostly when drunk, but never…  _ more.”  _

 

“And what is it you'd like to do?” Castiel asks, holding the lube between them like an offering. 

 

“What do you and- no, nope, can't ask that, can't even  _ think  _ about that, ew. Um, what's your preference?” 

 

“With you, I'd enjoy everything. This is your genuine first time; you should choose.” 

 

Dean shifts his gaze around the room, eyes bouncing everywhere but at Castiel. “Can you just… say both options and let me shake my head yes or no?” 

 

“I will, but please be aware that there is no reason to be ashamed of your desires, Dean. As I explained earlier, sex is very good for your body and mind. While it is not a requirement, or even a thing some want to do, those who enjoy it do get something out of it. Embrace it.” 

 

“Just… say the options, Cas.” 

 

Castiel quirks a smile, already looking forward to watching Dean grow more comfortable over time. He hums, quiet and low, considers the best way to put this so that Dean will get excited. Slowly, he offers, “We don't even have to do much, just touch, just rock together.” 

 

Green eyes flick up, locking on his. Dean swallows and shakes his head in the negative. 

 

“Or, there could be mouths, just mouths and hands.” 

 

Again, without breaking eye contact, Dean shakes his head from side to side. 

 

“Perhaps, I could fuck you, see how you enjoy that, really find out your preferences.” 

 

Dean's body jolts as the word  _ fuck  _ falls from Castiel's lips, just as he'd hoped. Lips parting, throat bobbing, pupils expanding to nearly overtake all the green. Quietly, Dean breathes out, “Yes.” 

 

That is all Castiel needs to hear, just that easy consent and  _ want.  _ He tosses the lube on the bed and steps into Dean's space, reaching out to cup Dean's face and lean in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Easy as breathing, Dean goes pliant in his grip, relaxing and unfurling for him. 

 

Dean, as it turns out, likes being guided. He enjoys being told without words what to do, and Castiel vows to try out actual commands later. For now, he walks Dean back towards the bed, still kissing him slow and deep, languid heat building like the softest of scorches. It's a burn that buzzes under his skin, tingling and heady, impossible to scald. 

 

With patience and softness, Castiel helps peel Dean's shirt off, breaking from the kiss. He watches Dean's throat work, green eyes wide, and he decides that matching him stride for stride would only make things easier. He undresses slowly, revealing each inch of skin with tantalizing care, enjoying Dean eating up every second of the reveal with his eyes. 

 

“Take your pants off,” Castiel says firmly. 

 

There is no pushback. Dean's hands immediately fly to his belt, opening it and tugging his button apart. The zipper is a loud creak in the silence, and Castiel is warm to his very core, very pleased that Dean just  _ did it  _ without a second thought. The jeans pool at Dean's feet, and Castiel kicks them away after he steps out of them, then removes his own. 

 

Dean licks his lips, his voice a rasp as he asks, “What next?” 

 

Castiel could literally kiss him, so he does. It's supposed to be chaste and deep, but Dean is a fantastic kisser, somehow making every second feel like an explosion behind his eyes. They end up stumbling to the bed, panting into each other's mouths, hands sliding lightly over the skin of their torsos, trails and trails of goosebumps chasing fingers. Castiel feels every sensation heightened and intense, his breath barely escaping his lungs. 

 

“Underwear,” Castiel orders breathlessly, the word no less impactful though. 

 

Dean lifts his hips automatically, trying to reach down and yank them off, but he can't reach with Castiel pressing into him. Castiel is not willing to move off him completely, so he compromises by scooting back and helping yank away Dean's boxer-briefs. Dean's chest rises and falls faster, eyes refusing to look at his, as if unable to face Castiel now that he's seen his dick. 

 

Castiel distracts him by pushing his own underwear down his thighs. It takes some maneuvering to get them all the way off, and by the time Castiel's completely naked, Dean is staring right at his dick with an avid interest. 

 

“What do you want, Dean?” 

 

“I want-” Dean halts, mouth snapping shut. He slowly shakes his head and swallows. The sound isn't thick, isn't barely noticeable at all, which means he's swallowing saliva, not dryly. Which  _ means  _ Dean's mouth waters at the sight of Castiel's dick. 

 

Amazing. 

 

“Dean, we have plenty of time. We're going to do anything and everything you want. When we're more comfortable, we can have a threesome. With a woman. I want to see you in your element; perhaps you can give me pointers.” Castiel tries not to laugh when Dean's eyes snatch up to connect with his, all wide and green and so  _ aroused.  _ Perfect. “We will touch and taste and feel, and we will be a team together, and no matter what, I will always love you.” 

 

It's as if those were the perfect words. The tension in Dean's body, nothing but an undercurrent, unclicks and falls away. With unabashed want, Dean reaches out and tugs Castiel down on top of him, kissing him with a soft ferociousness. It's tangible and full of desire, spreading throughout his whole body, head to toe. 

 

They kiss long and hard enough that Castiel feels he should reevaluate his source of air, oxygen doesn't cut it anymore, not with Dean as a replacement. And when Dean's hand bravely reaches out to grasp Castiel's dick, like this isn't shaking them both to their very foundation, not even Dean can help him breathe. He closes his eyes and breaks from the kiss to rest his forehead against Dean's. 

 

“Fuck me, Cas, I want- please, I want you to-” 

 

And that makes something within Castiel flare to life, something dormant waking up abruptly. He's never felt it before, never even been aware of it. It's like the moments he fills with grace as power floods into his veins, but it is entwined with passion. Dean's asking,  _ begging,  _ and Castiel's mind completely shuts down for a moment. 

 

Castiel drags himself off of Dean to scoop up the lube and pour some over his fingers on his right hand. Without missing a beat, he pours a long stream right on Dean's dick, watching it twitch underneath the cold substance and anticipation. 

 

“Spread your legs,” Castiel growls, and it is not a question. 

 

Dean lets out a sound that might be a moan or a soft sigh, Castiel isn't sure, but the act of his knees parting takes priority. And suddenly, Castiel wants to do something - something he's never done before. He wants to kiss Dean from the inside out, wants to give what he'd want in some other fashion. 

 

With nothing but slippery tugs on Dean's hips, Castiel manages to get him to a better angle. He hunches in on himself, nearly folding in half, and he's so glad that his body is flexible. 

 

“Cas, what are you-” 

 

Castiel shows him exactly what he has in mind. The one touch of tongue to sensitive skin makes Dean jerk in his arms, throat gargling in shock, his hands coming down to brace himself on the bed as his hips buck up higher. 

 

His tongue is long and thick and he has full mobility, which he immediately puts to good use. He'd never expected that to come in handy, but when it allows his tongue to unfurl deep and hot within Dean, rolling and twisting, Castiel finds himself grateful. Dean, apparently, is too. He squirms, and moans slip free, his fingers twisting in the sheets, whole body quivering and arching under his tongue, wordlessly begging for more. 

 

One day, Castiel is going to lay Dean down and do this for hours, just because he can. He's going to worship him with nothing but his tongue, and he's going to enjoy every second. But today is not that day, so he pulls back, ignoring Dean's nearly silent whimper and pushing his hips down to get him to lay flat yet again. 

 

“Spread.” 

 

Dean does, legs hitching up by his sides, framing his dick perfectly. It glints in the light from the lube, but sways in a vaguely angry way, begging for some attention. Castiel obliges and smooths his left hand over it, smirking when Dean's hips jerk, his mouth opening to release a quiet, “Ah- ahh, ahh, oh shit.” 

 

Castiel uses his right hand to take over where his tongue stopped. The first finger doesn't have much trouble slipping in, not after Dean's been speared and stretched by Castiel's tongue. He lazily rocks each of his wrists, keeping the motion and pace the same as one hand casually rolls down Dean's dick and the other pushes a slender finger into him. 

 

Castiel knows when Dean wants more. His face has slowly pinched with a thin veil of frustration, his breath stuttering out of him faster, bright green eyes foggy. He squirms, trying to scoot closer, trying to roll his hips and push Castiel to go faster or harder or deeper or  _ something.  _

 

Castiel carefully adds a second finger, allowing Dean time to adjust. The transition consists mostly of him paying extra care to Dean's dick, keeping him right on the edge of losing himself to a frenzy. 

 

It's only when the fingers go in and out with complete ease that Castiel asks, “What do you want, Dean? Tell me.”

 

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, body curling in on itself and pressing out. He's so full of coiled tension that Castiel thinks it's a wonder he hasn't snapped already. “You,” Dean breathes, eyes staying firmly closed. “Fuck, I want you. However. I want you to- oh fuck, please fuck me. Please, I want- you, however I can…  _ You.  _ Please, just-” 

 

It's a garbled mix of emotion and need, but that's okay, that's practically their whole relationship. Castiel shifts forward on his knees, taking himself in his hand and preparing to move the moment his fingers leave Dean's entrance. He never wants Dean to feel empty,  _ never.  _

 

He pulls his fingers out and before Dean can even suck in a deep breath, Castiel nudges his way inside, slowly pushing until he's bottomed out. Dean's eyes wrench open, the green nearly gone entirely, and his mouth parts around the gasp frozen in his lungs. He's beautiful, so heartbreakingly  _ stunning,  _ and Castiel loves the very sight of this. 

 

Without a thought, Castiel stops touching Dean's dick and grabs his wrists in each hand. He has to lean forward a bit, but he manages to get them crossed over Dean's head, as if he's making an X on his pillows. He pushes his right palm over the hump of Dean's wrists, feeling the pulse flutter wildly underneath, and uses his whole body to push the hands down and pin them to the pillows. 

 

Dean's ass clenches around him, a long drawn out sigh of contentment spilling from his mouth.  _ He likes this,  _ Castiel thinks. 

 

Left hand free, he reaches down to hitch Dean's leg up to his hip, making him slide in just a bit deeper. Then, he squeezes his left hand between their bodies and strokes Dean's dick. And only then does he start rocking his hips. 

 

It's close and compact, not allowing for the best range of motion, but Castiel's whole body is pinning Dean to the mattress in some form or fashion, and there is just enough friction to make it hard to breathe. All the while, Castiel keeps his grip on Dean's dick steady and easy. 

 

He manages to get his knees underneath him and pull up a bit, adding more pressure to Dean's wrists and leaving space between their chests. This allows him to properly touch Dean  _ and  _ rock his hips deeper and faster. And Dean's jaw unhinges at the change in angle, eyes going wide, whole body shaking almost violently. 

 

As Dean would say,  _ bingo.  _

 

Castiel now knows where Dean's prostate it, knows exactly how to move his hips to elicit the most pleasure for them both. He exploits it. 

 

“Do not orgasm,” Castiel warns. 

 

With that, he gets back to work. He rolls his body quicker, hips sashaying back and forth, pressing in, dragging out. It's all at angle that's much easier, and he clenches his fingers around Dean's wrists  _ just because.  _ And Dean moans loudly, all embarrassment tossed out the window as sensation takes over. 

 

Release approaches them both gradually, the heat and tension growing between them impossibly; it crowds them close, makes it hard to breath, makes ecstasy the only thing they can focus on. 

 

Dean's wrists start rolling under his palm restlessly, body writhing beneath him, hips jerking up and down to match Castiel's strokes. His mouth is just open now, huffs and whines falling out so beautifully and most likely without his knowledge. And Castiel knows, can just  _ feel,  _ that Dean is about to lose it. 

 

The litany that suddenly springs forth from his perfect mouth is more than enough conformation. “Please, Cas, I want- I need-  _ please.”  _

 

“Do it,” Cas says with a groan, voice  _ wrecked  _ even to his own ears. And he pushes in fast while twisting his hand around Dean's dick. 

 

But ultimately, Castiel knows it's his own permission and order that pushes Dean over the edge. He finds release immediately, back arching, eyes fluttering closed, wheezing his way through. It's too much, far too much, yet not enough. He wants to watch Dean, wants to see him fall apart, so he forces himself to keep his eyes open through his own orgasm, pulling out and coming on the sheets. 

 

In the end, Dean's a mess, Dean's bed is a mess, and they're both too gone to even care. Castiel drags himself to land beside Dean, releasing his wrists and choosing to pull his whole body into his side instead. Dean goes willingly, eyes closed, a delirious little smile on his face, body still twitching intermittently. 

 

“That was…” Dean trails off, the words muffled into Castiel's shoulder. 

 

Castiel turns his head, pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead. “Good, I'd hope.” 

 

Dean huffs a quiet laugh. “The best. Like sleep and cuddle-worthy.” 

 

“I can do one of those things and I will.” 

 

“You'll stay?” 

 

“Yes, of course,” Castiel says. 

 

Dean's eyes peel open, so many emotions flicking in his gaze then. “I, uh. I didn't get to say it before, and it ain't easy, but I… I love you, Cas.” 

 

Castiel smiles, slow and sure. “I know,” he whispers. 

 

Then, Dean's laughing into his shoulder for reasons Castiel can't understand, but that's okay because nothing could possibly ruin this moment. 

 

This is going to work, Castiel just knows it is. 

 

And right there and then, Castiel relearns to have faith. Not in God, not in the world, but in  _ them.  _ He knows, without a doubt, that everything is going to be okay. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Things are not okay, not at first. 

 

To start with, both Sam and Dean are terribly awkward about the whole ordeal. Castiel doesn't quite understand it, but from what he gathers, they're just both uncertain how to handle that they're having sex with the same person. They've done it before, Castiel  _ knows  _ that, and in those situations, they'd laughed it off and forgot about it. 

 

With Castiel, it is different. Maybe because they're actively doing it and it isn't just something that happened by accident. No, this is within their knowledge, a decision they made, a whole arrangement. While it doesn't bother Castiel in the least, Sam and Dean fumble with it. 

 

For the very first week, they seem unable to meet each other's eyes. They don't talk, don't spend any time together, don't even  _ fight.  _ And it's not antagonistic, not something tense even. It's just…  _ uncomfortable.  _

 

Castiel hates it. 

 

He'd been serious about not talking about the intimacy with one to the other, and he keeps his word. But that doesn't mean he completely ignores the events unfolding around him. His relationship with each of them is fine, perfect and working out just as he'd hoped. But their bond has been put on hold for reconstruction, a new thing that feels like ruin, and Castiel will not stand for it. 

 

So, Castiel grabs Baby's keys, pushes them both out the door with the request for alone time with Jack, and locks them out. The door shuts with a clang on their pinched expressions and the discomfort that exists between them. 

 

He spends majority of that day relaxing with Jack, playing hour long games of scrabble, giving him quizzes on lore. It's calm and nice, Jack's grins making something ease in his chest. He unlocks the door sometime about midday, but Sam and Dean don't return until closer to the evening. 

 

Jack's already in his room, talking on the phone with Claire about something or another, when the entrance rattles open as the boys stumble through. Castiel turns in his chair to watch them, eyebrows hiking up at the sound of their laughter. 

 

Dean elbows Sam as soon as he notices Castiel, laughter wheezing out of his throat, and Sam nearly doubles over as tears stream out of his eyes. Castiel has the distinct feeling that they're laughing  _ at  _ him, but he can't find it within himself to be too annoyed; at least they're having a good time. 

 

“Oh my god,” Sam chokes, leaning on the railing and pointing at Castiel. “He does! Dean, you're right, he  _ does.  _ Oh my god!” He splinters off into more laughter, slowly sliding down to curl in on himself. 

 

Dean can barely push words out of his throat, and his head is tossed back so far he looks ready to tip over. “I…  _ told…  _ you, I fucking…” 

 

And even as warmth blooms through his whole body, Castiel stands up and narrows his eyes at them. “Neither of you will be receiving sexual release tonight, and don't come in my room!” 

 

“Dean, I think… I think we pissed him off,” Sam wheezes, barely unfolding from himself. 

 

Dean hiccups a laugh. “Worth it.” 

 

And just like that, they're back to laughing uproariously while Castiel marches off. It's mostly to hide just how pleased he is, but it gives him an excuse to give a sense of anticipation on the sex front. Otherwise, he's happy that they worked out whatever issues they were having. 

 

And they have. They're back to their usual selves, as if unbothered by the fact that they're having sex with the same person. Castiel doesn't know if they acknowledge it at all, or don't, if they talk about it, or say nothing at all, but whatever it is they agreed to, it  _ works.  _

 

The following week passes much easier than the first, even when they take a case in Omaha. Castiel had wondered how public affection would go over, but he really isn't surprised by how it goes down. Quite literally, nothing changes. 

 

Sam and Dean are as touchy as they ever have been, brushing up against him casually, clapping his shoulder, kicking him lightly under the table under the table at the diner to grab his attention. It isn't even that they restrain themselves; it's just their personality, just who they  _ are.  _ Castiel doesn't mind, enjoys the casual touches as much as the mere prospect of public displays. And perhaps it's because they're working a case that they don't branch out and try for  _ more,  _ they're too busy trying to fly under the radar anyway. 

 

It's that assumption that pushes Castiel to ask both of them on a date. He plans to take Sam to an aquarium on Thursday and Dean to play paintball on Saturday. It's merely for informational purposes, but also a little bit because the case hadn't ended so well - eight bodies had racked up because Sam had misread a passage and Dean forgot to reload his gun, and all in all, they deserved to unwind and forget about it. 

 

Sam's still beating himself up over it when they go out, but the receptionist gives them a little packet with information about the marine animals, and he relaxes into the bullet points. The place is lit up in beautiful glowing lights of different colors and the animals look at peace within their containers. 

 

About halfway into their first loop, Sam reaches out to grab his hand and tug him toward the jellyfish, and he does not let go. It's a simple contact, easy and casual, but Castiel likes it all the same. 

 

Sam's entranced with the seahorses, but only up until one gives birth, and then he goes worryingly pale and sways on his feet. To be fair, it's not exactly a majestic sight, but Castiel rather thinks it's beautiful in its own right; most of nature is. Still, he chuckles quietly as he leads Sam away. 

 

It's calming and soft _.  _ It amuses Castiel that their sex life is the exact opposite, heated and hard, a little bit of work required. 

 

As they leave, Sam stops him on the way to the car and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek, still holding his hand. It warms Castiel's heart, makes him smile a gummy grin, and he leans up to peck Sam fully on the lips before they leave. 

 

That night, Sam fucks him hard into his mattress, hips pistoning away, grip hard enough on his hips to leave bruises Dean will ignore later. It makes Castiel vow to turn date night into a tradition. 

 

On Saturday, Castiel drives Dean to the field and ignores his consistent questions. This was a surprise, so Castiel holds his tongue, but cannot restrain himself from rolling his eyes. 

 

The paintball area is mostly an open field with possible places to hide scattered across. As soon as they walk up to the window, Dean's eyes widen and his lips spread into a wide grin. Castiel pays for the guns and ammo while Dean practically vibrates at his back in excitement. Definitely a good idea. 

 

“Dude,  _ dude,  _ you're taking me to play paintball?” Dean asks, fiddling with his gun with bright eyes. 

 

Castiel slips his helmet on, a requirement of the facility - something to do with liabilities, and he doesn't exactly  _ need  _ the helmet, but alas, the things he does for love. With a little bit of confusion, Castiel manages to fill his gun with the paintballs, twisting it this way and that to hear it rattle. 

 

“That is what is happening, yes,” Castiel confirms, once he's completely ready. 

 

Dean still hasn't put his helmet on and his eyes are dancing with childlike delight. He looks beautiful with his green eyes so bright, perfect lips spread around a flash of canines, just utter and rare  _ joy  _ so obvious on his face. Castiel's stomach twists with the weight of his emotions, what humans would call butterflies knocking around within him, and he feels like supernovas live in his lungs. 

 

“I'm gonna kick your ass,” Dean declares and slips on his helmet. 

 

Castiel tilts his head, helmet and all, and teases, “You can try.” 

 

As Dean jogs off with a laugh, Castiel lifts his gun and narrows his eyes. Without hesitating, he pulls the trigger, aiming right for Dean's ass. As if having a sixth sense, Dean dances out of the way of the shot, laughing all the way until he disappears between the barricades. 

 

“Hey! No shooting out of the field!” The owner bellows, making Castiel put his gun down in chagrin. 

 

They call out the rules to each other across opposite ends of the field. They have to get across to one another without getting shot and make contact to finish a round. If they get shot, they have to go back to their end of the field and try again. Simple enough, or so Castiel thinks. 

 

After the fourth time paint splatters against his chest, Castiel realizes that he is terrible at this. He is much better with blades, but he knows his way around a gun. He isn't sure what he's doing wrong. It isn't until he focuses on Dean's position and not his gun that he realizes what it is. 

 

Too busy trying to make sure Dean does not advance up, he doesn't pay attention to the gun. 

 

After that, Castiel adjusts his tactics and it's more evenly matched. Even still, Dean is the better shot and Castiel gets sent back to his end of the field far more than Dean does. But then he gets really good at dodging shots, flinging his body this way and that rather than just pushing himself through it. This isn't a real fight where he takes a gunshot and keeps on going, this is fun, this is a date. 

 

And so, they eventually get closer, both inching towards one another, and Castiel realizes Dean is going to win before Dean does. To officially win a round, Dean has to touch him, and knowing this, Castiel does something he's never seriously done in the midst of gunshots. 

 

He  _ runs.  _

 

Just full on sprints, ducking away from Dean's hands heading for him, laughing outright when a curse follows him. Castiel can hear Dean chasing him, feet pounding against the dirt, and his heart races with adrenaline. He's laughing, loud and free. It's somehow like flying again, like stretching his wings and escaping every bad thing that's ever happened to him or the ones he loves. 

 

Dean eventually manages to tackle him to the ground, straddling his hips, heaving deep breaths and tearing his helmet off to reveal the brightest grin Castiel has ever seen from him. With his chest rising and falling faster and faster, Dean reaches down to remove Castiel's helmet and leans down to kiss him as if he was incredibly thirsty and Castiel is the closest drink in sight. 

 

It's filthy, fast, a little bit naughty. Castiel is arching up and panting in no time, mind immediately going offline, and he is pretty prepared to have sex with Dean right there in the dirt. 

 

The sound of the owner's voice over a megaphone brings that to a quick end. “Helmets on at all times while in the field!” he yells, voice barely heard after as he pulls the megaphone away. “Crazy sons a’-” 

 

They burst out laughing in unison, holding on and snickering in amusement. 

 

Later, after two more rounds, they go home. Dean winks at the owner as they leave, Castiel under his arm and pressed into his side, and the owner just smiles slightly and shakes his head. 

 

Dean is dirty and relaxed, hair damp from sweat and tousled, eyes bright even with flakes of dirt on his neck, not a clean spot on his clothes. But he looks so  _ happy  _ that Castiel doesn't even care that he's in much the same state. Their hands are intertwined on the bench between them as they drive back, the grip loose but linked, and Castiel cannot help but smile. 

 

That night, Castiel rides Dean slow and sensual, rocking his hips and digging his fingers into Dean's chest. Dean nearly cries when he finds his release and Castiel leans down to bite him as he finds his. 

 

All in all, date night  _ definitely  _ becomes tradition. 

 

And so, the third week rolls around with what seems to be no problems. They add a rule, one that consists of giving Castiel his space when he finds he wants it; Sam and Dean understand immediately. And things are working perfectly, until they're not. 

 

One morning, Dean walks Jack into the kitchen with a loud clearing of his throat. “Alright kid, tell 'em what you told me.” 

 

Jack looks severely uncomfortable. “Do I have to?” 

 

“Go on,” Dean insists, gesturing to Castiel and Sam before crossing his arms. 

 

“I just… I saw you and Sam kissing,” Jack says slowly, looking down at the table.” 

 

Sam clears his throat. “Okay?” He sounds confused and Castiel throws a searching look at Dean. 

 

“Keep going,” Dean urges, nodding his head. 

 

Jack heaves a sigh. “So, I told Dean about it because I felt he should know that Castiel is cheating on him.” 

 

Immediately after the words leave Jack's mouth, he hangs his head and refuses to look up. Something odd vibrates in Castiel's chest, something he doesn't understand, and he looks between Dean and Sam. 

 

Dean jerks one hand at Jack, lifting his eyebrows like,  _ do you see, look what's happened.  _

 

Sam just blinks rapidly and blushes to his roots, large body awkwardly hunching in on itself. 

 

Okay, Castiel can do this. 

 

“Jack,” Castiel rumbles awkwardly, “how did you know Dean and I were together?” 

 

Jack's eyes slowly lifted. “I just… assumed? Didn't you two go on a date last week? You two took a shower together. Claire says that men don't do that usually, especially not Dean.” 

 

Castiel's eyes bulge. “You told Claire?” 

 

Okay, Castiel can no longer do this. 

 

“I- yes? I was very confused and figured she would be able to help. Things are different now, but I didn't understand why.” 

 

“Oh, Jack,” Sam sighs softly, lips twitching. 

 

“Okay, everyone sit down,” Castiel orders, motioning to the chairs around the island. Slowly, everyone complies. Dean's sitting back with his arms crossed, eyebrows raised, looking like he's waiting to see how Castiel will play this. Sam just looks a little guilty, staring at Jack in a mixture of regret and amusement. 

 

“Are…  _ are  _ you cheating on, Dean?” Jack asks carefully, hunching down in his seat. 

 

Castiel shakes his head. “No, and I would appreciate it if you could let me talk to Claire about this after I explain, okay?” 

 

Jack nods, just once. “Okay, I guess.” 

 

“Dean and I are together, yes. I love him very much,” Castiel explains, watching Dean's face soften out of the corner of his eye. “We are in what some would call an open relationship, so that means we are together but we also see other people. That does not mean we love each other any less, it just means that we are okay with… branching out.” 

 

“And you branch out with… Sam?” Jack flicks his gaze to Sam, eyebrows crinkling in confusion. 

 

Castiel nods. “Yes, I do. I love Sam very much. He is someone I am with outside of Dean. He has the same freedom that Dean and I do. Do you understand?” 

 

Jack frowns. “I think? Wait, so are Dean and Sam…” 

 

“No!” Dean and Sam blurt out in unison, faces crumbling into disgust automatically. 

 

Softer, Castiel says, “No, they are brothers, Jack.” 

 

“Right.” Jack frowns some more, clearly thinking it over. “So… is everyone happy?” 

 

Castiel trades a look with Sam and Dean, eyebrows arching up in question. Sam and Dean both roll their eyes and smile slightly, sarcastic and playful even in this. Castiel loves them so much. 

 

“Yes,” Castiel confirms, “we are.” 

 

That, apparently, is enough for Jack, because he beams and shoots to his feet. “Mmkay, cool. Can we play shoots and ladders now?” 

 

Sam snorts. “Yeah, Jack, go grab it.” 

 

As soon as Jack's out of the room, Dean whistles low between his teeth. “Well damn, Cas. You sure handled that well.” 

 

Castiel grimaces. “Yes, and now I have another child that isn't technically mine but almost is to go explain this to.” He shoots them both a glare. “Good thing I know what I am doing, neither of you helped.” 

 

Sam and Dean have the decency to look apologetic, even if they can't fight their smiles. 

 

The conversation with Claire is incredibly awkward, but she understood far more than Jack did. Castiel doesn't even have to fully explain before she gets it, and most of the discomfort comes from the fact that she understands a bit too well. 

 

The last week in the trial run eventually comes to a close, and Castiel dreads it. There were plenty of hang-ups throughout the whole month, and Sam or Dean could easily decide it's not worth the trouble. But the thing is, Castiel  _ wants  _ it. 

 

The last day comes to a close and they wait for Jack to go to bed before shutting themselves in Castiel's room - the one place he refuses to have sex, marking it his space to himself, and both of them respect that. Sam quietly sits in the armchair in the corner while Dean sprawls all over Castiel's bed, and Castiel paces back and forth. 

 

“So,” he announces, staring at both of them seriously. 

 

“So,” they echo. 

 

Castiel comes to a halt and rolls his shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest. “All I need is a yes or a no, no explanation required. Are we continuing this outside of the trial basis, or not?” 

 

In some kind of strange synchronisation that Castiel has never been tuned to, they both reply in perfect unison. “Yep,” they declare, both popping the 'p’ in amusement. 

 

Castiel's shoulders sag. “Oh,” he breathes in relief, blinking rapidly, “okay. Well, you are free to leave. I need a night to myself.” 

 

With a groan, Dean pulls himself up as Sam immediately moves from the chair. Sam pauses to kiss him on the cheek on the way out, smiling sweetly as he goes. “Night, Cas.” 

 

“Goodnight, Sam.”

 

Dean stops to kiss the cheek Sam didn't, and Castiel thinks that's why he has two cheeks to begin with, one for each Winchester. “Looks like you got what you wanted, you stubborn bastard,” Dean teases, pulling back to smile at him. 

 

“Yes,” Castiel agrees with a slight smirk. 

 

Dean huffs a laugh and starts out the room, pausing in the doorway. “Love you.” 

 

“I love you too, Dean.” 

 

And just like that, after  _ everything,  _ he has both Sam and Dean as his own, in two different ways, but each so important. For him, it has always been both, and it is in this as well. Because honestly, he's always been their angel, and he always will be. 

 

With a smile, Castiel puts on Dean's mixtape and sits down to read the book Sam gifted him. 

 

In the end, it  _ is  _ okay. 

 

And it works. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very strange for me to do, something very new and out of my comfort zone. I've never written Sastiel before, never even really shipped it before, but I did have lots of fun with this! 
> 
> So, if you enjoyed this, don't hesitate to drop off some kudos and leave a comment letting me know what you think. Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Ta!
> 
> -SOBS


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